A Curse of the Heart
by MonsieurGarrus
Summary: Cambria (OC) has taken residence in Sleepy Hollow and seems to be neutral in this end of days war. This one shot explains gives us a tease of her unique relationships with Abraham and Ichabod. (I'll be writing more of this of course, but if there is any interest I shall write much faster! Any feedback is appreciated! )


The Battle of Yorktown re-enactment went swimmingly...as well as an actual battle could go. Jenny had an idea of Cambria attempting to try to lose herself in the time period she loved so long ago. Jenny was almost right. She did miss the clothing at least. Well, almost. She didn't give a damn about those hoop skirts. The ornate embroidery, knee-high lace boots, and even the corsets were something she had always cherished.

It was just about sundown when she finally arrived home. As usual, she checked the perimeter and secured the locks on all the windows and doors on the property. When she reached the kitchen, the house held a certain silence. And then…creeeaaakkkk. A floorboard shifted behind her. Ichabod? She played off as if she didn't notice anything. She wasn't sensing danger so she wasn't about to spook anyone wishing to visit her. It was then that she finally smelt something more identifying. Dirt, dried blood, and a soft breeze of lavender. Inspired by it, she selected a personally blended black tea with star anise, cinnamon, and a touch of rose hips.

"I have enough for two, Mr. Van Brunt."

She sat the tin of tea upon the counter and turned to face him. If he held any surprise that she knew it was him who broke into his house, it would have only been noticeable by his change in stance. Ever confident in her composure she took a step towards him. Keeping her movements slow but deliberate, she placed her left hand upon his chest and stopped a moment to look him in the eyes. Well, were she thought his eyes would be. She used her hand for balance as her right reached over his shoulder. She could feel him tense. Her fingers slipped through the porcelain handle of the nearest teacup and she leaned back. She nodded as she held the teacup in front of her so he could see that she posed no danger. For the moment. She turned her back to him as she began to busy around the kitchen.

"I imagine you're here for personal reasons?" She reached far over to her side to a kitchen drawer and pulled it open. With a sudden thundering of his boots, Abraham jumped towards her, his hand grasping her wrist harshly. She flinched at first and then turned her head towards him smiling gently. Keeping her eyes upon him, she finished pulling the drawer open to reveal simple silverware. Her fingers went to a small stirring spoon. He then released her wrist, clutching into a fist for a moment, as if he was frustrated at his own overreaction.

"Leave Moloch and his business at the door. You, however, Mr. Van Brunt, are always welcome in my home." She took his still outreached arm and squeezed it gently for emphasis. The tea kettle began to whistle and she turned back to the task at hand. "As much as I appreciate your visit, I am curious on why you're here tonight?"

He took a step back, resting up against the kitchen island and paused. There was no one else around for him to take over. No one else around to be his voice. Except her. Abraham hadn't thought about what to say let alone how to say it when he got to her residence. He just knew he had to get to her, that she'd know how to help.

Cambria finished stirring both teacups and placed one near the horseman. She wasn't about to not offer it to him. It was not meant in any way to mock him, only as a common courtesy she'd give to any visitor, headless or not.

Holding his breath, Van Brunt's fingers went to his ornate collar and he began to unravel his tie and unbutton the clasps. As the cloth was removed and peeled back, Cambria began to grasp what had happened. He stopped after revealing the entire width of his collar bone and rolled up both of his sleeves. Although quite dead, Abraham's flesh was flushed and lively. Except for a few patches of deep grey. These patches were about two inches in width but looked on the brink of becoming necrotic.

Cambria sipped her tea, hiding her reaction from him. After both sleeves were rolled, she set her tea down and stepped towards him. She took one of his hands in hers and lifted his forearm in front of her. Her fingertips grazed the grey tenderly as she leaned closer. "I see. It is good you came to see me, you didn't have too much time left before it would become irreversible." She looked up to him, "I've seen this a few times before. It's either Moloch punishing you in some way," She dropped his arm and turned towards her pantry which she kept all of her herbs, "...which is usually accompanied by burning fingertips and toes when cast by a demon or it's just a complex witch's hex." She paused and placed a finger over her lips as she recalled the remedy and searched for the required herbs. "Thankfully, Mr. Abraham, the cure is the same and simple enough. Ah!" She remembered suddenly and grabbed an armful of glass jars and oddly shaped containers.

When Cambria looked back to him, his body language changed; both fists were clenched to the point of his knuckles turning white and he was slightly hunched over. It would be clear to anyone what he was experiencing. Intense anger. As she let him sort out his own thoughts, Cambria began to mix her ingredients in a marble mortar. In an effort to keep him focused she began to explain her next step, "Most of this is mandrake root and vein's of Dragon's Wing leaves...I will also need to have to make a slight incision in the center of each patch so, a blade will be involved." She turned towards him as she continued to grind the herbs.

As if eager to impress, Abraham began to pull a total of seven blades from within his jacket alone. He dropped them upon the kitchen island with a loud clamor. Her eyes widened and she chuckled "Well, those are blades all right but I was thinking of something a little more...precise." She reached into another drawer, slowly of course, and withdrew a small paring knife. She held it out to the horseman for inspection and he slumped his shoulders as if to say 'Really? This?' She nodded and then gestured with her head to a lit candle near the kitchen's doorway. "Can you get that sterilized for me?" She had better ways to sterilize the knife but this at least would get him more involved in his own healing process.

When he returned with the knife she glanced over it and nodded, "Very professional." She wasn't even sure if it mattered that it was sterilized or not. His flesh looked healthy but he was after all, dead. But, better safe than sorry...that's what they say now, right? She set the now red paste upon the counter beside them and let her hand press him back against the counter again. "How many are there?" The horseman held up four fingers and began to push the fabric aside. Counting all of them to herself she then nodded and smiled at him. "Shall we?"

Cambria took the paste back in her hands and then dipped a finger into it. Abraham braced himself for whatever the herb might do to him but slumped when her finger went to her mouth and she smeared it across her lips. She then took the knife in her hand from him, letting her fingertips brush against his hand to soothe any worry he might have. If at all possible. With the tip of the paring knife, she brushed the tip against the center of each of the four patches, opening a wound that was just large enough for blood to form. Taking his right wrist, she held his arm up to her and as she looked at him, kissed the open wound upon the underside of his forearm. His chest puffed with air as if holding his breath. The next patch was at his collarbone. Breaking whatever eye contact that could be considered eye contact she leaned forward and with a hand still at his chest for balance, kissed again. The third was at the base of his neck, right where the neck curled into his muscular shoulder. Her lips hovered over the grayness and she took a moment to consider what would happen after she finished curing the demon's henchman.

Abraham could feel her hot breath against his skin and he felt goosebumps for the first time since...well, since before he could remember. He could see her and wished he had brought her some sort of gift that he could have enchanted. Something like Katrina's necklace that would allow her to see him as he really was. Just as she seemed to regard him as. Abraham van Brunt. Not the dreaded Horseman of Death. The heels of her feet finally touched back against the wooden floorboards. He held his hand up to her slowly. His hand was still clenched and her fingers slowly bent his fist open and revealed the grey discoloration with its slight dribble of drawn blood. Her eyes looked back up to him as her mouth neared the last bit of the hexed skin but when she was near enough for the skin to be brushed by her lips, her eyes closed and she pressed one last kiss to his palm.

When Cambria released her lips from their embrace on his skin she stood from her place and smiled warmly to him. His hand went to her jawline and held her in his hand. She was taken back. Cambria never expected a physical sentiment to be the way he thanked her.

Clearing her throat she took a step back, letting his hand fall back to his side, "Uh, just um. Keep those clean. Don't rub off the herbs though, they need to settle in. They'll disappear when the healing has finished and it will also act as a ward." Cambria walked away to return the jars and bottles to the pantry. When she turned back around, he was gone. Her smile fell for a moment. It was nice to have company for awhile. Company that didn't dribble on about the demonic war. Just a bit of normality was all she wished. She laughed to herself. Her normality now was a headless horseman getting a remedy for an obscure skin rash. She'll take what she can get.

Finishing her tea, she smiled as she went over what just transpired. He was a victim of so many aspects of war; a lover's quarrel, the Revolutionary War, the demonic war, and the war he battles every day within himself. She believed she was the only one that still believed in Abraham. That his soul was still worth saving. Cambria placed the empty teacup in the sink only to see the one she selected for the horseman to be empty and turned upside down. He even put away his dishes. She rinsed it as she smiled to herself and then set it upon the counter to dry.

By now it was getting late and she head to the back bedroom. One of two she managed to get to the status of being livable. The entire upstairs was what she considered condemnable. However, being as stubborn as she was, she'd get it restored in due time. The outer colonial dress was easy to remove. Most of its construction as built around dresses being in multiple pieces. Laying it on the foot bench, her hands went behind her back to attempt to undo the knot that held it in place when there was a sudden clatter and a string of what sounded like curse words. Abraham? Still in her undergarments, she snatched a decorative fencing sword from off the bedroom hallway wall and headed towards the source of the noise.

There, lit by the walls sconces Cambria left on at night was Ichabod bent over and holding onto his boot. He was drenching wet, so much in fact his hair was the source of a steady stream of water that pooled directly onto her hardwood floor. She hadn't even realized that it started raining. Looking quickly out the window she was shocked to see just how bad of a storm was raging. Hopefully Ichabod hadn't walked all the way here from the cabin. Raising an eyebrow, she lowered her sword and rested her back against the wall. What about today said that she was accepting all visitors? Perhaps this is why Abraham left so quickly.

Crane looked up to see her and smirked childishly but then noticed her undergarments; he quickly turned around to give her privacy. "Miss Cambria, forgive me. I did not mean to interrupt you in your state of dress but I noticed your foyer side door was left open. I was expecting some sort of intruder instead of…"He glanced over his shoulder for a moment before snapping his gaze back to the opposite direction.

She sighed and shook her head. "Well, in the very least, Mr. Crane, you came at the right time. I need your assistance with this." She turned and gestured towards the corset ties. Nodding he understood immediately. He was after all, a married man and knew just how complicated woman's clothing was. Ichabod had noticed how current fashion quickly phased out such difficult dressing tasks. Her hair was still pinned up from this morning so it wasn't too much in the way of his task although she placed a hand behind her head as if my instinct. "I trust you're not here to help me with my undergarments?"

He heard her but he hadn't processed it just yet. Her corset top came lower on her back and he noticed two large raised scars that ran vertically on each side of her back. They were level with one another but he couldn't see just how long they were as they ran down past the corset. He cleared his throat when he realized she was talking to him and expecting a response. "I uhh." He hadn't thought of how to bring it up again as she'd been avoiding the subject ever since. "I wanted to talk about my vision." The corset finally loosened.

Sucking in her breath in anger, she bit her lip. When Cambria felt the corset release and quickly turned. "I was quite clear on the matter, Ichabod." As if attempting to dismiss another discussion, she clutched the corset to her chest and turned back down the bedroom hallway.

Unwilling to yield this time around, he followed her to the back bedroom. "I've been respectful to your privacy, Miss Cambria but, you can't keep escaping the issue."

"There isn't an issue if what you have to discuss doesn't even exist!" She threw the corset on the bed and went over to the armoire, throwing it forcefully open.

"You don't even know if it can't exist! That's the whole point of discussing this!"

She quickly forgot what she was even doing at the armoire since her attention was now directly focused on Ichabod so she faced him. "Meddling with what could have or could be will drive you crazy, Ichabod. The vision you saw could have been a glimpse of something but that's it. A glimpse! Focusing on it will just bring despair and sadness. Please, believe me on this." She spoke as well as she could with patience but his constant arguing was testing her.

"How would you know what I'm feeling? You weren't there when they and INCLUDING YOU looked at me. I could FEEL what they felt. That wasn't just a dream, Cambria."

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW? YOU THINK I AM COMPLETELY IGNORANT TO WHAT YOU'RE GOING THROUGH?! YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE I COULDN'T FATHOM IT LET ALONE EXPERIENCE IT MYSELF?!"

Ichabod took a step towards her, "What do you mean, Cambria? Tell me, you have saw it too, you felt it?"

"Gideon and Noble."

"Pardon?"

"Gideon and Noble." Her voice dropped to almost the level of a whisper as she stepped towards Crane. "That's our sons' names. Gideon, he's the oldest. His favorite color is blue and he laughs just like you. He gets into trouble sometimes but it's only because he's so curious. And Noble? He wants to be just like you. He can't get enough of your stories. If he could have his way, he'd lie on the ground in front of the fireplace and have you repeat all his favorite war stories over and over again. And that little girl who has your eyes and your hair…her name is Suzanna. She doesn't talk unless she has something important to say. Her eyes are always open, like she's making notes on the world around her. She likes to help me in the herb garden and sometimes she takes your shirts and tries to wear them like dresses." Cambria's fingers played with the edge his collar as if reliving the moment through the fabric itself. "I've spent days in our vision by reactivating it, Ichabod. Almost wasting away in the process just to have another second with them…with you. But, in the end, I'm not holding Suzanna against me as I carry her to bed. I'm not arguing with Gideon's headmaster over his attention during class, I'm not scratching Noble's head when he's feeling sick. I'm here. On this Earth. In this time. They're just not here, Ichabod. And you?" She stepped back and shook her head with her eyes cast to the floor, "You're promised to another. So, how can you tell me to entertain the idea any further?"

Ichabod went to her, wanting to hold her. All those things, they were beautiful. As he reflected on the faces of his children, he believed every word she said. He could just see it happening exactly like that. He held his hands out for her to take, "Even before our kiss, Cambria, my heart has been yearning for you. I've been trying to give you space and not crowd you but, every day my heart sings of a reverie for you. And Katrina. She was what I longed for when I walked the Earth before I was here with you. Every day here, I feel less for her, she is not the woman I thought I loved. Can't you see?"

"I WILL SHARE YOUR HEART WITH NO OTHER WOMAN, ICHABOD." By this time the hand she placed on his chest was now clutching the fabric of his tunic into a fist. Unable to keep eye contact with him, her eyes went down to her own hand and suddenly realized her level of anger. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she began to release the shirt and flatten her hand against him, "I couldn't stand the doubt that the man that I love might long for someone else. I can't fancy any idea of a future with a man until I know that our love is pure." Her eyes finally went back up to his. "I do hope that you can understand that, Ichabod." She dropped her hand and stepped away, clutching her hands together she moved down the hallway to a spare door. The night outside had gotten more thunderous and she could hear the heavy rainfall against the house. "You can stay here tonight. It's not very decadent but it should be suitable for one night."

Ichabod wanted to say something in return and struggled to find words. What should he say to her? That he'd promise to love her and only her? That was something he swore to Katrina so long ago and ever since reemerging from the ground he hadn't been able to keep with his promise. The vision had to mean something. When they kissed there was a sudden realization of his feelings for her. He hadn't accepted that until recently. Would he have to drop to a knee right now and denounce his love for Katrina and then proclaim it for her? He would if it was completely true. She deserved a love that was true not a love that was still unsure of itself. He nodded his head in agreement. Anything with a roof was better than nothing and it was clear there would be no more discussing anything else tonight.

It must have been a few hours later and well into the night when Ichabod awoke. He thought he heard something hitting up against the house. His eyes flew open and he noticed that under the door to his borrowed bedroom that there was a light still on and it was brighter than the sconces Cambria usually left on. Pulling his shirt back on, he swung his feet off the bed and headed out into the hallway. The light was coming from down the hall and from his vantage point; it also seemed to be where the noise must have been.

Doing his best to make as little noise as possible, Crane glanced around the final corner. Letting his breath out slowly, he noticed it was only the fireplace still burning. Although it was slowly dying as the fire's caretaker was fast asleep upon a nearby couch. That all explained the light but was far from explaining the loud noise that originally woke him. By now the raining had stopped and although the sky was cloudy, the storm had stopped. Leaving Cambria upon the couch, Crane stepped out onto the manor's front porch with a still lit candle he found in the kitchen, began to patrol the edge of the house, half expecting to find a fallen branch. It was right outside the window of the living room did Ichabod notice something a tad peculiar. Pausing a moment to look inside and make sure Cambria was still sleeping; he then crouched to the ground and held out the candle. Ichabod cursed under his breath. They were footprints. Bent halfway over he decided to follow the tracks and he did in fact find where they stopped. Right at another fresh set of prints. Hoof prints. Anger flooded his face.

As he pulled a blanket over himself and set his head upon the pillow he looked Cambria over. With the way the firelight shone upon her face as well as her relaxed expression, she looked so peaceful. Although peaceful and sleeping, she seemed to look slightly concerned. It had been quite some times since Ichabod had felt this safe near someone, as if the apocalypse wasn't just around the corner. She was just so beautiful to him. It was as if she were an angel.


End file.
